Reserved Cross
by angelofdeath1119
Summary: Bunch of Kuroro One-shots. VERY short. Mind you, just some random stuff. Done in the middle of classes, thus, really gone unchecked.
1. Innocent

He was clueless.

Oh, he was nothing. He was just another black-haired, black-eyed baby.

But he was anything but ordinary, or normal.

He was in Ryuuseigai.

A dumphouse, for trash, unwanted objects – babies included.

And he was one of the lucky survivors.

Oh, yes. He's just a six-month-old baby, but we can say he's going to be pretty strong, considering he stayed in all-out mother's care for six months.

He was _just _a baby. Yet here he was, thrown away like garbage.

He…was innocent.


	2. Accustom

Ryuuseigai.

So striking a name, most people who don't know of its existence imagine a city thriving with life and happiness.

Exact opposite of what it is.

In Ryuuseigai, people are deprived of their joy. The people are barely alive.

They are cold.

They are empty, soulless humans that exist with no consciences.

They wear blank, stoic masks.

To mold his empty slate of a character, all he could do was accustom himself to the surroundings.


	3. Defeaning

The silence was defeaning.

To an outsider, it would be too _silent _for comfort.

But for them, it was alright.

They have bequeathed the will of death to the Kuruta clan, for their own want.

The one donned in a black coat with sullen, empty onyx eyes took one last, longing look on the blood-soaked grass and the plain strewn with corpses, as if decorations.

"Yurusu o watashitachi."

*Yurusu o watashitachi: Forgive us.


	4. Remorse

Uvogin has been long gone.

Shalnark was still tracking down the chain assassin, and Nobunaga was still grieving for his lost best friend.

_He, _instead, was just wearing an indifferent expression on his pale face, pretty much like the other members.

But inside, the pain was gnawing on him, that feeling of loss. It was growing in on him, and it was annoying him. It itched beneath the skin. An itch you couldn't scratch.

He walked up, looked out the window.

"Tachiagaru," he said. "We shall offer a gift to our fallen one."

*Tachiagaru: rise.


	5. Child

He could only watch the agitated, out-of-control blonde that couldn't keep still beside him.

Bloodlust irked from the teenager's rattling chains.

_Once upon a time, he could've made a nice Spider, _the older man reflected. He shifted.

The blonde took an angry glare at the man. The teenager's bloodshot eyes showed all emotions of anger and sadness, of confusion, and doubt.

But most of all, one sentiment reigned in the depths of its shadows.

Fear.

_Indeed, _the man thought, staring at the blonde by the reflection the window gave. _It was a child we had left in Rukuso Valley._

"Itaitashii."

Itaitashii = Pitiful


	6. East

"…to the east…"

The wind woke the tired middle-aged-man. He was thirsty, hunger aggravating his empty stomach. Worse was his appalling headache that made him stumble on nothing in particular.

Oh, how Hisoka would laugh. The skill-hunter, the well-feared leader of the Genei Ryodan.

Dying of hunger in the middle of nowhere?

_But there is no time for self-pity, _he'd say to himself.

Twice he had hitched a ride from jeeps passing by, using his friendly, hair-let-down, seventeen-year-old no-way-the-leader-of-Genei-Ryodan look.

He has degraded himself to someone like that.

_But there's no time for self-pity, _he'd remind himself.

He had to force himself onward, and lift himself on angel wings to heaven.

Then, pull back to earth.


	7. Angel

He was an angel with bloody wings.

The weight of the souls of the people he had killed pulls him down, disabling him to lift off.

He is pinned to the blood-stained ground.

He was a reincarnation of the wicked angel Lucifer.

Hence his name.

The bedraggled beasts of hell pull him down, but the angels reach their hands out to him.

They know and they understand.

There stands a chance for change.


	8. Reflection

An Oasis.

He found a paradise in the barren surroundings of the desert.

He, having been lost in his own thoughts and devices on how to survive, found a reliever.

No, not a nen-remover. He needed a reliever for the mental frustration that he had been carrying all time, almost driving him crazy.

Besides, Hisoka was the one responsible for the searching. And there hasn't been one call from the demented jester.

He stares at his reflection in the water, messy, drty, and _wet. _He wonders, about Ryuuseigai, About his spiders.

About the chain assassin.

Has he, as promised, finished off the remaining spiders? Or was he content with the leader? Was it enough revenge for him? Was his thirst for vendetta over yet? Was it over? Do they still need to problem about him?

An unusual playful smile crept on Kuroro's usually blank expression.

_The fight isn't over yet, Kuruta._


	9. Light

The flame set a gentle glow on the raven-haired gentleman's table. He was writing a letter to his comrades, a letter unsigned and undated, but containing only a few words.

_I have found a Nen-Remover._

In his delicate handwriting, six words would mean a lot to his Spiders. The limbs would be able to move now, with the head.

Even though he did remind them that anyone could replace him, no one dared.

No one was good enough.

Thus, he remained as _Danchou._

The envelope was soon sealed, to be sent to a small apartment they have 'rented'… or maybe, 'taken control of' would be a better term. He put it aside in a pile to be fixed when the sun comes up.

He could wait.

Tonight, there would be no more fitful sleep or restless night. He would be in peace; and soon, his Spiders, too.

A new dawn on a bright tomorrow.

He blew on the candle, and the moon shed light on the tiny wisps of smoke that set out.

He was used to the dark anyway.

He used to say that he was the dark, so why fear it?

But he could actually feel a light being shed unto his dark being.

A change, for a new tomorrow?

For Kuroro Lucifer?

* * *

**A/N: **My first author's note for Reserved Cross. I just have one question:

How will I do the battle between Kurapika and Kuroro?

I will make a fight, but I can't decide between who-wins-who-loses. So I need your honest opinions.

This chapter marks the end of the Kuroro-isolated ones. The next ones, I hope will be better.=] Depends on your reviews though. xD


	10. Three Days

'Shalnark.'

'Danchou!' a happy, excited sound filled Shalnark's voice. In Kuroro's mind, he could see Shal bouncing with unending joy.

'Yes. Tell the spiders to assemble, tomorrow at our hideout in Ryuuseigai.' His steely voice only second to Machi's, was scary.

'Ryuuseigai…?' Shalnark's voice faltered with confusion. 'You mean…'

'Yes, I mean, Shalnark,' he repeated.

'Yes, Danchou,' Shalnark said, sounding happy again. 'When is this, Danchou?'

'Three days.' With this, Kuroro clasped his phone shut.

_Three days til your fall, Kuruta. _


	11. Midnight

"I suppose you've located him, Shal."

"Yes, Danchou," Shalnark said, and continued to retrieve the information from his little laptop. "Pretty easily, even. He's still the head of Nostrad's bodyguards."

"So Nostrad hasn't found out yet."

Shalnark, distracted, faced the Danchou and cocked his head to the side. "Found out what, Danchou?"

"His origin," the other man said, taking off his coat to change his inner garments. An awkward silence overcame the two of them. The older man broke it by calling the younger's name. "Shal."

"Yes, Danchou?"

"The strike starts at midnight."

And with that, Kuroro left the room.

A Cheshire-cat grin came to life on Shalnark's face. "Yes, Danchou."


	12. Hesitation

"Call the front liners."

The plan of attack was in motion, and every one of them was tense.

The head, and the limbs. The spider was complete.

There would be no doubt.

Because of the order, the first attack surge was in plan.

And the head proceeded to his duties.

He, from a distance, peered into the blond's room – with no uncouth thoughts whatsoever – half-expecting the blond to be ill at ease. But he was taken by surprise when he did see the lad calm and at peace, reading a book under candlelight on his bed, apparently oblivious of the strangers.

Suddenly, the blond jerked up his head, causing Kuroro to move backward. He didn't want to be known, for the element of surprise will be a helpful factor.

When Kuroro narrowed his eyes to see, he noticed that the blond's phone was ringing. The lad took it and answered it, and soon a smile crept on his face. He lay back on the bed, relaxed, talking to whoever was on the other end of the line.

_Now, _Kuroro's mind urged on. _It's time._

But his feet felt glued to the ground.

_No, _he resisted his battling body. _There would be no hesitation. _

And with that, he attacked.


	13. Moonlit

To outsiders, the two combatants would seem like they, instead of fighting, were engaged in a moonlit dance, like Cinderella and her prince dancing before the clock struck twelve.

It was unimaginably fast, their unnoticeable, fluid movements resembling a waltz of deadly strikes of swiftness.

Chain met blade, holders knowing that one wrong move – an opening – would be an instant ticket to death.

To Kuroro, it seemed fancy, almost fairy-tale like; dancing at midnight outside a rich man's mansion with an effeminate looking would-be the last prince of the fallen Kuruta tribe. He wanted to giggle at the thought, no matter how uncharacteristic of him and untimely as of the moment.

To Kurapika, however, it was utterly ironic, moving around with a man he hated most, and he thought he had defeated, under the milky glow of the midnight moon. It pissed him, too, how a smirk managed to crawl its way on the other's face.

Out of the blue, Kurapika's eyes started to fill with tears. His vision became hazy.

_I am so weak, _he told himself. _And now my friends will suffer._

Images flashed in his mind. Of Bashou, Senritsu, even Neon. Of Gon, Killua, and Leorio.

And in his eyesight, everything turned red.

They were dancing beneath a bleeding moon.


	14. Rubies

Kuroro was tired.

All the boy did was defend, defend, defend, attack, but attacks weak enough to block or evade.

"I'm tired of you, Kuruta," he hissed. Kuroro dashed suddenly with blinding speed toward the boy.

The boy's scarlet eyes widened in surprise, but then narrowed and turned into an ever deeper shade of red.

The moon cast a pale, yellow glow on his eyes, casting a scary illusion.

The Kuruta replied with unison, quick movements, and had passed by a shadow.

His eyes looked like glowing rubies of blood.

* * *

**A/N: **This is the final call for the winning factor. Who. do. you. want. to. win. Final roll call. If nothing goes, I'll do it with a toss coin.

But actually, I was thinking of something else. It's going to be a 0 - 0. Zero to Zero. Well, I'll think of it. I have it in my mind. =] Tell me! =]


	15. Kuroro end

"Goodbye, Kuruta."

As merciless as he, he just pushed the knife further down the wheezing boy's bleeding chest, until it hit the hard cement roof. The blood started to leak down his body, and his eyes was wide with pain and burning scarlet, of course.

Kuroro pulled out the knife from the boy's chest and the boy slumped back on the cement. His scarlet eyes, that used to but with so much life, now looked dead beneath the vermillion hue that made it alive.

Kuroro fell on his back on the bloody ground. For all means, he felt tired. He felt dead. It didn't feel right for the killer of many, but he just felt such at that time.

He looked at the stars, a usual habit for the thoughtful leader of the most ruthless group ever known. The Benz Knife, which he had used, gleamed a starry hue from the moon's quiet glow.

He took one look on the dead Kuruta teenager. If he had not been so revenge-filled, maybe he would've lived normally – normally used on the not-so-average basis – with a life with his friends. One of them was an acquaintance of Hisoka, right? _Well, maybe not meeting was really impossible._

From the depth of the teenager's eyes, he could see hopes and dreams. He could see wishes for the future. He could've seen a link to the present of life, but the past was more important to the kid. Now, he has lost his own future.

Ironic.

Kuroro took the teenager on his shoulder, and decided to bury him in the depth of the woods, by a little stream. A sign of kindness, for the leader. He did, after all, bury Uvo when he killed him, right? It can be a sign of peace.

And a sign of letting go.

Kuroro turned around, not even sparing a final glance to the makeshift grave.

After all, what could he do?

* * *

**A/N: **This is the Kuroro end. It's too fast for me... I don't think I like it at all -_-' Not the ruthless action I wanted to have, I don't know how. I'll try to write the Kurapika end in two days (I have so many tests at school, I can't write.), and the win-win end in another two. So, by Saturday, hopefully I'll be done.

Aaaaah.


	16. Kurapika end

The two continued to fight; a never-ending, life-threatening battle that was about to last forever. Well, to the Kuruta boy, anyway. His legs felt weak and his Nen almost diminished.

But he would not give up, not to the man he'd sworn to kill.

He fancied, however, the fun in fighting with the older man – that he missed to do so the previous time around – to see his tricks. Not like Hisoka's – the bare thought of the demented jester sent a shudder across his spine – but just as professional. Maybe even more.

He watched as the man browsed through his Nen book of Nen skills. He was feeling so easy, as if he was just in the library reading through a favorite Classic. Kurapika tried to figure out how the older man controls his multiple nen schemes. He compared it to the spokes of a spider's web – many branches, many powers and it ends at the middle, where stands the spider, the source of it all.

While he, instead, was a white butterfly stuck in the silk of the threads.

Suddenly, an idea came to his mind. Ever so quickly, his body was suddenly engulfed with radiance from his really powerful Nen. Kuroro felt the sudden change, and tensed.

Super fast, super deadly. He delivered a kick and the nen book flew from Kuroro's hand. It disappeared into thin air, and the older man hadn't have enough time to recover when the younger boy kicked his chin so hard he moved away a few feet. Blood came out of his mouth.

The younger one, thought, did not cease to attack. Kuroro could see the burning desire to kill in the boy's scarlet eyes. The latter wrapped the former in the deadly Chain Jail, a serpent that constricted around him, like a boa.

"You," he hissed, releasing the chain that came off his index finger. "You will die… after the searing memories of pain and agony of death have burned your soul."

He waved the tiny end of the chain above the older man's face. Kuroro was subconscious now, his mind almost drifting up into eternal sleep. But when the chain – that looked like a sword with a cross-hilt – touched the man's face, he felt like electricity jolted through him and he woke up.

_Judgment day, _Kurapika thought, _is to come._

_And this sword will judge you._

The sword played around, dancing across Kuroro's face. What the nen was doing to him was pretty obvious. His pupils were dilated, filled with the terrorizing fear.

Memories seared in his mind. Of women, children, of people. Reaching out to him, but without hopeful eyes. _They didn't have eyes! _Kuroro knew this was a remembering of the Kuruta people's suffering. "Kuroro…" they called out to him painfully.

"Kuro…ro…"

"Ku…ro…ro…"

"Ku…ro…ro…"

"Ku…ro…ro…sen…pai…"

An image came, of a girl with sunny bright locks and bright blue eyes – the first pair of eyes he had seen in this terrible flashback of his murderous past. "Kuroro-senpai," she said more painfully, more slowly.

Then, she dropped dead in his arms, now missing a head.

"Please… " Kuroro moaned in agony. "Stop it… stop it…"

Kurapika thought he made a whimpering sound, unable to catch what he said.

"Goodbye, Lucifer," the blond said, and the sword disappeared through the man's head like a ghost passing through the wall. The older man had made miniscule convulsions, and stopped.

Then, Kurapika slumped on the hard cement. He was tired, all energy having been used. The nen needed for _that _chain was much more than the rest. After a few minutes of catching his breath, he stood up to stare at the motionless Kuroro Lucifer. He closed the man's eyes.

From afar, Kuroro would like he would just be a sleeping child.

Kurapika carried Kuroro (who turned light with dead weight) and placed him behind a bush where he thought he'd felt a spider. They'd find him, anyway, in one time.

He went back into his room, picking one-by-one the shattered glass. He wounded himself in the process.

He slumped on the floor by the bed, his resolve breaking. Tears that have welled finally began to pour, and it felt like it was raining down on him.

Revenge wasn't sweet, after all.

* * *

**A/N: **So. Long. =] Did this in between classes, if I wasn't writing the songfics. Oh well. Here ya go. The win-win lose-lose would come maybe tomorrow or the next. I was thinking if there should be two, too. Ha-ha. One that both lives, one that both dies.

I go for the both dies.

AWMFG. I just gave you a spoiler, yay. Unwarned. =]] Sorry. Lol. I feel hyper.

Oh well. I made up the index finger thing. I tried to salvage Kurapika's sanity and good-naturedness in it. Not so evil as Chain Jail and Judgment, but just as painful.


	17. Warriors' Demise

**A/N: **Dyaran, dayaran. Here is the last chapter for Reserved Cross (Ahh at last!). I ended this tonight because we have something important to do tomorrow, and I probably won't be able to face this typing matter for the entire day. So there.

I like how it ends, I guess. This thing's been bugging me since who-knows-when, even before I started the Kuroro end chapter, so I guess it was a relief to put it out. You know how it is to hold your breath for thirty seconds, before letting it out? That. That's how it feels.

People might think the last line from Kurapika would be familiar. Yes. I just changed the name. It was from _Fushigi-Yuugi, _respectfully by _Arakawa-sensei, _if I remember right. It was Nuriko's last line, too. [He was cool too, and also bishounen looking ;)]

Kirana is imaginary. Supposed to be his sister. At first it was Karana, [from Melody] but I realized that would be plagiarism - it appeared in Scott O'Dell's Island of the blue dolphins. So it's Kirana. I haven't read anything with Kirana yet. Tell me.

I should stop babbling.

**THE FINAL DISCLAIMER: **I. Do. Not. Own. HxH.

* * *

The moon cast a scary, hallow, sullen, dim glow on the two warriors. Each brought up to fight. Each fighting for survival. Each fighting for a reason. Each with a will so powerful.

"Stop playing child-games, Kuruta," the older man hissed, "and fight like a warrior!"

They've been swinging weapons since God-knows-when, and they were both getting tired. As for their injuries, there was nothing major. For the Kuruta, a gash on his right arm, extending from elbow to almost-wrist, and for the Spider, a tiny incision on his cheek, vertically, maybe at least two inches long.

Obviously, Kuroro was on the upper hand.

Kurapika, even though silenced and without a word, had eyes that shouted, 'You will pay for your sins!' His determination was also scary, and reeked out with his glowing nen. The mere feel of it would send a shudder down a normal, easy-to-scare I'm-not-used-to-death person's spine.

But Kurapika was also weakening. The gash on his arm – caused by the Benz knife – was bleeding profusely, and the infection was coming in, together with the paralyzing poison. It started five minutes ago, and still continued to spread on his body. He can barely move his arm. The poison was sliding in him, and now, suffocating him. It twirled on the edges of his left knee, and he slumped down.

Kurapika stared at the ground, watching his blood drip quickly on the gray cement. He can barely see the difference of the color of the blood to his tribal outfit, the cement, or even his arm. Everything was red to the eyes, to the point color was really undistinguishable.

The only thing he could distinguish, really, was the older man's deadly nen, sweeping around him in a slow twirl of circles. It was a waltz of cold spirits that could kill in one strike. It was a threat, a danger.

But Kurapika wouldn't give up on a man like him. No. Not when he killed his entire tribe. No. He mustn't give up. He might die in the process, but it would be okay if he could drag him to hell, too.

Kurapika, even though wobbling, stood up. His left hand gripped his right elbow, wishing the pain, that throb that existed from the bleeding wound, would stop.

"Let's go."

In a flash, chain met blade and only the rustle of clothing proved something was moving. They were too fast, you wouldn't even see them move. They both relied on hearing to know where the other was.

When they both landed back on the ground, Kurapika staggered. There was a cut on his throat, and a rather deep one, running across his vocal chords. He fell on the ground.

Kuroro walked over to him, checking if he's still able to stand and walk, and fight. What he saw instead, was a mess of a human. He was _literally _bathing in his own blood. Blood sputtered out of his throat, and out his arm, draining everything like a fountain gone out of control. This one, though, was a fountain of blood. And Kuroro was used to it, anyway.

_Sun in the sky, trees on the ground._

_Our bodies created from the earth,_

_Our souls from the heavens._

_The sun and the moon shines on our limbs,_

_And the ground moistens our body._

_Giving this body the wind that blows._

_Thank god for the miracle_

_And the Kuruta territories._

Even though very faint, Kuroro could hear the whisperings of a prayer coming out from the younger man's lips. It was weaker than a whisper, and even weaker than a murmur. It was barely audible.

_Wishing to share everlasting peace in our souls_

_I desire to share the mirth with my people_

_I desire to share their sadness._

_God please praise eternally_

_The Kuruta people._

_Let our Blazing Scarlet eyes…_

Kuroro's eyes widened exponentially when he saw the blond's eyes turn even more red, bleak with blood. But he was more surprised when a powerful constriction was felt in his chest, very fast, and he didn't even get to guard himself. The pain was very familiar, very, very so.

…_bear witness…_

"Yes, Lucifer," the lad managed to utter as Kuroro started to convulse with the pain Kurapika directed on his heart. "You may have gotten me, but I have gotten you too."

…_for one last time._

"I… will drag you to hell." He pulled his middle finger up and the blade pierced Kuroro's heart. It was silent torture to the older man, and he slumped on the ground, lifeless.

Kurapika smiled, staring at the bright cast of light the moon was showing to him.

_Kirana, it's you. _He closed his eyes and reached out a hand to her. _How long have you been here?_

And he disappeared with the light.


End file.
